Anastasia | +18

Aleksandr

Dancing, that's what this one with red hair is all about. My gaze flicks over her, slow and deliberate, before settling on Giovani.

"What does Simon want?" I ask, my voice cold, unreadable.

Giovani barely glances at me, more interested in the girl draped over his lap. "To know," he says. "He wants to know."

"To know what?"

"What you're still worth today" He gestures lazily for the other girls to leave, except for her, the one who's been dancing for the past ten minutes.

"You stopped the war," he continues, sinking further into his chair. "Put a bullet through his mother's skull. You beat him, in every way that mattered." He exhales. "Simon is weakened, but his men aren't. You, Aleksandr... you are." His gaze sharpens. "By your mother. By yourself. And by her. Anastasia."

I clench my jaw. "So what? We start the war all over again, and then what? Simon wins, and we all bow down to a capricious child?"

Giovani chuckles, dark amusement twisting his features. "You've always been pathetic, deep down. This all started because of your family. It's always been your fault." He yanks the girl roughly onto his lap.

I don't react, just clench my jaw and adjust my cufflinks. If this war starts again, I'll lose it. But if it doesn't now? Simon will find another way to ignite it in a few months. That's who he is.

I lift my gaze, about to respond, when I see it. The mark. A burn, small but unmistakable, just beneath the red strands of the girl's hair. My breath stills. There it is, on her neck.

Anastasia.

A slow inhale steadies me, keeps the storm from breaking loose too soon. I don't let my expression shift, don't let Giovani or anyone else see what I've just realized. I move slightly, just enough to catch Matvei's attention

"Follow her," I murmur. No further instruction is needed. He understands.

I exhale, dragging a hand through my hair, then drop my cigarette into my glass before rising to my feet. Giovani is still lounging, still idly resting his hands on the girl's hips, oblivious. Son of a bitch.

"Giovani."

His head tilts, just enough to acknowledge me,right before I pull the trigger.

The bullet rips through his skull, silencing him mid-breath. Blood spatters across the couch, across the girl's skin. She gasps, flinches...and turns. And for the first time in eight years, I see her. Anastasia.

Her eyes lock onto mine, wide, frozen, like an animal realizing it's been caught. Cornered.

As she bolts I watch her go, calm. Matvei takes off after her, his footsteps pounding against the floor.

I reload my pistol and finish off the rest of Giovani's men.

Well... here I go again.

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